


Romanticism for beginners

by drinkginandkerosene



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Dom!Jehan, Drabble, M/M, References to Suicide, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkginandkerosene/pseuds/drinkginandkerosene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't that he didn't love things, it was that he wasn't in love with Coufreyac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romanticism for beginners

Coufreyac thinks that Jehan is the most beautiful being in the world.

Jehan thinks he’s too ugly too live but too cool to die and isn’t it just funny how these things work out? 

Not that living was exactly a choice of his. Oh he tried to don death’s cloak, but life pumped through his veins no matter how much he tried to flush it out with pills or bleed it out with razors. 

Eventually, like with most things, he gave up. 

He told Coufreyac it was for him, that choosing life was so they could be together, for always, but honestly? Trying to kill yourself could be more exhausting than living when other people found out about it. 

At least Enjolras never asked him why, but they were brothers in arms, united in bathroom cubicles with fingers down their throats. Jehan never asked him why either, to be fair, reasons didn’t matter. He was just there to pick him up when he fainted, like Enjolras was there to bandage bloody arms.

It was mostly Coufreyac’s face. His huge eyes when he saw the new scars on his thighs, the only time he was ever beautiful was when red lines scored his legs or his wrists or his ribs. Coufreyac disagreed.

“I love you.” He would say, as if it solved a damn thing, as if that word meant a damn thing. 

Love as people thought of it either didn’t exist or Jehan was broken. Not that he didn’t love a lot of things, that wasn’t true. He loved pills and he loved parties and he loved Enjolras. He wasn’t in love with Coufreyac. Not now and not ever, but if he was lying to save his lovers feelings, surely that was okay? No God above could punish him for being kind.

How would he even begin to explain this to Coufreyac? Explain that the only time he felt like he could bear this load of life on his back was when he was so pumped full of drugs he couldn’t see without tinting things rose or when someone was spread on the bed before him, asking to be taken apart? And take them apart he did. Fuck them, hurt them, whisper the filthiest things in their ear.

It wasn’t that Jehan was emotionless. He felt too much. He felt every hurt feeling of a friend, he was never merely annoyed, he was always furious, he couldn’t be happy, he had to be joyous, he couldn’t be sad, he had to be lie-in-the-middle-of-the-road-depressed. 

“I love you.” Coufreyac whispers, that familiar anxiety etched across his features, and Jehan thinks he’s beautiful, but then, so is a car crash.

“I love you too.” And the lie tastes as sweet as honey.


End file.
